HOW CLARENCE FOUND IT OUT.
Clarence and his brother had not been under their uncle’s roof more
than two or three hours before they found that they had been sadly
mistaken in regard to some opinions they had formed, and Marshall
was honest enough to acknowledge the fact, at least to himself. The
“country bumpkins,” as Clarence had sneeringly called his cousins,
proved to be educated young gentlemen, who, before the day was over,
put their dashing city relatives to the blush on more than one
occasion, and forced them to confess that all the knowledge in the
world was not to be gained by simply travelling about Europe. Don and
Bert exerted themselves to the utmost to entertain their visitors,
and so did all the other members of the family; and they succeeded so
well that Marshall told himself that perhaps his forced sojourn in the
country would not turn out to be so very unpleasant after all. But
Clarence, being entirely out of his element, was homesick already, and
consequently could take no interest in anything. He cared little for
such amusements and pastimes as were to be found in a happy cultivated
family circle. He preferred a game of billiards or cards with some boon
companions, and these he could not have so long as he remained under
his uncle’s roof.
The day was a long and dreary one to him. He played a few times on his
flute while his cousin Lucy accompanied him on the piano; spent an hour
or two in walking about the plantation; listened patiently, but without
much interest, while Don and Bert talked of the various exciting and
amusing incidents that had happened in the neighborhood during the war;
and as soon as night came and he could find an opportunity to do so,
he slipped away by himself. He wanted to be alone, so that he could
think over the plans he had formed for bringing his visit to a speedy
termination, and make up his mind what sort of a letter he would write
to his mother.
“There’s no fun to be seen here,” said Clarence, as he drew a cigar
from one pocket and a match-safe from another. “I can see that with
half an eye, and I can’t endure the thought of staying here for six
long months. I’d do almost anything to raise money enough to take me
away from here this very night. Now, what can I say to mother, in the
letter I intend to write to her before I go to bed, that will induce
her to send me fifty dollars without an hour’s delay?”
As Clarence asked himself this question he lighted his cigar, and
finding that a fence ran across his path, and that he was at such a
distance from the house that he could enjoy his smoke without fear of
interruption, he leaned on the top rail and went off into a reverie,
from which he was aroused a few minutes later by the sound of voices
and footsteps. Hastily taking his cigar from his mouth and putting it
behind him, he looked up and saw a couple of figures advancing toward
him along the fence. It was so dark that he could not see who they
were, but it flashed upon him that perhaps they were Don and Bert, who
were out searching for him. With an exclamation indicative of great
annoyance and vexation, he was about to throw away his cigar, when
some words spoken in a suppressed tone of voice fell upon his ear and
arrested his hand.
By this time the approaching figures were so close to him that Clarence
made out that they were a man and a boy; and from their conversation he
learned that they had come there to dig up a barrel. Clarence caught
every word they uttered, and could scarcely restrain his astonishment
when he heard the man say:
“He done a good thing fur us, ole Jordan did, when he run away without
tellin’ his missus whar that bar’l was hid. Now, Dannie, let’s try
right here fust. Ye begin, kase yer the youngest, an’ I’ll set down an’
smoke an’ watch ye till yer tired. Now, bar in mind that yer workin’
fur eighty thousand dollars! Throw it out with the fust shovelful, an’
I’ll give ye half!”
Clarence almost jumped from the ground when he heard this, and,
like the quick-witted fellow he was, he comprehended the situation
perfectly; but we ought to say that he had something besides the
conversation to which he had just listened, to aid him in reaching
the conclusions he so suddenly formed. During the day his aunt had
shown him several articles of value that had long been heir-looms in
the Gordon family, and explained to him how she had managed to keep
them secreted during the war. The family silver had been buried again
and again--every time, in fact, that there was the least rumor of an
advance being made by either army--and the work, for the most part,
had been done by some of the negroes on the plantation.
“A good many people lost property in that way which they never
recovered,” said his aunt. “The negroes, having concealed it, ran away
with the Federals without leaving any clue to the hiding-place of the
valuables, and so they were never found.”
Clarence had not thought much of this at the time, but he thought of
it now, and by connecting it with the words that had just been uttered
in his hearing, he arrived at a tolerably fair solution of what would
otherwise have been a deep mystery to him. His aunt had not said so
in so many words, but he inferred that she had lost valuable property
in the way she had explained. Clarence was sure of it now, and he was
almost overwhelmed by the discovery he had made.
“Eighty thousand dollars!” said he, to himself. “It must be in money,
and in gold and silver, too, for my aunt says that all the wealthy
rebels took the precaution to exchange their bank-notes for specie at
the first beginning of the trouble between the North and South. I hope
to goodness they will find it. If they do, they can rest assured that
they’ll not get away with it all.”
The few seconds that Clarence passed in meditating and soliloquizing
in this way, were employed by Dan in getting ready for work, and by
Godfrey in picking out a comfortable place to sit down, and in filling
and lighting his pipe. Having discarded his coat and hat, Dan threw
out two or three shovelfuls of earth; but it was heavy work, and Dan,
who got tired very easily, could not help asking himself how many such
shovelfuls he would have to throw out before the coveted barrel could
be brought to light. He told his father that ten acres was a great
deal of ground, and Godfrey, to encourage him, reminded him that there
were eighty thousand dollars in gold and silver buried somewhere about
there, and that they must have it if they were obliged to dig up the
whole state of Mississippi.
It was while Dan was looking all about the field to see how large it
was, that he discovered the lighted end of Clarence Gordon’s cigar
shining through the darkness. Clarence was leaning half way over
the fence in his eagerness to hear all that was said, and smoking
furiously, too much interested and excited to remember that the little
coal of fire on the end of his Havana, which glowed brightly for a
moment and then faded almost entirely away, as he drew in and puffed
out the smoke, could be seen by the parties he was watching, should
either of them chance to look that way. We know that they did look that
way, both of them, and that half a minute later the field was deserted,
and Clarence was standing alone beside the fence.
The boy was utterly amazed at the haste with which Godfrey and his son
took themselves out of sight, and all unconscious of the fact that
he was the cause of their alarm, he drew himself quickly down beside
a tree that stood in the fence corner, put his cigar behind him and
looked all around, expecting to see some member of his uncle’s family
or one of his servants approaching. But there was no one in sight, and
after listening and watching for a few minutes, Clarence climbed over
into the field to see what progress the two prowlers had made with
their work.
The hope that they might have uncovered the barrel was very
short-lived, for he found that Dan had made just no headway at all. The
hole he had dug could have been covered up with a hat.
“I wonder what in the world it was that frightened them away,” said
Clarence, in deep perplexity. “They were frightened, of course, or
they would not have run as they did after holding that whispered
consultation. I can’t see or hear anything alarming, and I do wish they
had stayed long enough to dig up the barrel. Eighty thousand dollars!
If it is to be found I must have some of it. If I knew where I could
find a shovel, I’d dig awhile myself. But no matter. They will probably
come back again; if not to-night then some other night, and I shall be
on hand when the barrel is found, no matter if I don’t get a wink of
sleep for the next six months. Hello! what’s this?” he added, as his
fingers came in contact with the pipe Godfrey had dropped.
He held it up between him and the sky, and when he saw what it was,
was about to throw it away, when he thought of something. He held the
pipe suspended in the air a moment, then put it into his pocket and
walked back to his hiding-place again. He waited and watched there
for nearly an hour, hoping that Godfrey and his son would return, but
being satisfied at last that they had no intention of coming back that
night, and fearing that if he remained away from the house any longer,
somebody would be out to see what had become of him, he pitched the
stump of his cigar into the bushes and walked away from the fence.
“Now, this is just what I am going to do,” said Clarence, who had
already thought the matter over and determined upon his course of
action. “I’m going to find out who those fellows are, if there is any
possible way for me to do it, and I am going to say to them: ‘Look
here, boys; havers!’ If they say ‘Yes,’ well and good. If they say
‘No,’ I’d like to see them get a cent out of those eighty thousand
dollars. I wish it was morning. I shan’t sleep a wink to-night.”
The first person he met as he entered the hall was his aunt, who seemed
to be waiting for him. She asked him where he had been passing the
evening, and detecting the smell of tobacco smoke, told him what he had
been doing. Clarence pleaded guilty, but said that he was homesick and
had the blues; and when he got that way, nothing did him so much good
as a lonely walk and a cigar. But he would give up the cigar now. He
would not smoke any more.
After a short time spent with the family in music and conversation,
the boys all went up stairs together, and Don and Bert stopped for
a few minutes in their cousins’ room. Clarence thought this a good
opportunity to find out some things he wanted to know, so he began
questioning Don at once.
“Whom do you visit with here?” said he. “Who is your nearest neighbor?”
“O, we have a large circle of friends,” replied Don. “I don’t wonder
you think it very lonely now; but wait until you have had a chance
to make acquaintances, and then tell me what you think about it. Our
nearest neighbor, as you go up the river, is Colonel Packard. He has
two lively boys whom I think you will like. In fact I don’t see how you
could help it, for everybody likes them. Our nearest neighbor, as you
go down the river, is Godfrey Evans.”
“He’s a good one,” said Bert.
“We don’t have much to do with him or his family,” continued Don, “and
you will know the reason why when you see them. We give David our dogs
to break, because he is a first-rate hand, and we want to help him
along. He’s got something in him, David has, but his father and his
older brother, Dan, don’t amount to much.”
“Dan!” thought Clarence, becoming highly excited at once, “I believe
I am on the right track already. The man who was digging in the field
called the boy that was with him ‘Dannie.’” Then believing that it
might be well for him to know something about Godfrey before he sought
an interview with him, he said aloud:
“How far does this man Evans live from here, and what is his business?”
“He lives about a mile down the river, and has no occupation at all,”
answered Don. “He used to be in good circumstances, but having lost
everything he possessed, except his land, he is too disheartened to go
to work and put himself on his feet again. He spends a little of his
time in hunting, and a good deal more in grumbling at his hard luck. He
might make a good living for his family with his rifle, if he felt so
disposed, for game is abundant, and he is a good hunter and a capital
shot; but he is too lazy to follow even that, the laziest of all
occupations.”
After a few more questions Clarence learned so much of Godfrey’s
history, and of his disposition and habits, that he began to think that
he was already well acquainted with him; and besides Don described
him so accurately that he could not fail to recognise him if he once
met him. This much had been gained, and now Clarence would have given
something if he could have learned more about the property belonging
to the family that was buried during the war; but, after thinking a
moment, he decided that it would be better for him to say nothing at
all on this point. He did not want to arouse anybody’s suspicions, and
besides, Godfrey Evans, when he found him, could tell all he desired to
know. He wanted to go to bed now to think over the good fortune that
seemed almost within his grasp, so he began to yawn as if he were very
sleepy (if his country cousins had been guilty of such an act he would
have pronounced them boors at once), and Don and Bert, taking the hint,
said good-night and left the room.
The night was as long and dreary to Clarence as the day had been, but
for a different reason. He was impatient to be up and doing, and it
seemed to him that the morning would never come. He heard the little
clock on the mantel strike every hour from ten to five, and then he
jumped up because he could stay in bed no longer. He was not called
to breakfast at six o’clock, as Marshall had predicted, but the meal
was ready at seven, and after they had sat down to it Clarence, to
his great disgust, found that Don and Bert had been laying out some
very elaborate plans for the entertainment of himself and brother. In
the first place it was their intention to spend two or three days in
riding about the country, in order to give their city relatives some
idea of the manner in which the people in the South lived, and also to
make them acquainted with all the young people in the neighborhood who
were worth knowing. Then, of course the boys would call on them, and
by the time their visits had been returned, they might begin to look
for brant. When they began to come down from the North, the shooting
season was close at hand; and if Clarence and Marshall liked to hunt,
they would get a party of good fellows together, and go down to the
shooting-box and spend a week there. When they were tired of that, they
would go ’coon-hunting; and when they had seen all the sport they cared
to see in that way, they would trap and shoot some turkeys, or drive
the ridges for deer.
“Yes,” thought Clarence, while he listened, “it is all very fine, no
doubt; but if you think you are going to use up my time in that way,
you have reckoned without your host. Amusement indeed! What pleasure
would I see in riding about the country calling on these natives? What
do I care for your deer or turkeys or your shooting-box? I can’t go, at
least not to-day, for I have business of my own to attend to.”
And he didn’t go either; and, what was more, he gave such reasons for
declining that his cousins, although somewhat surprised, readily let
him off. He was much too homesick to be any company during a ride, he
said, and all he wanted was to go off somewhere and be alone. He would
be himself in a day or two, and when he felt more like mingling with
people, he would be quite at the service of his cousins, Don and Bert.
The latter expressed their regrets, but readily accepted his excuses,
and Clarence, after making some inquiries of Don, calculated to draw
out information on a few points on which he wished to be posted, went
up to his room to prepare himself for his interview with Godfrey Evans.
When he came down again he wore a neat hunting-suit, and carried a
light Ballard rifle on his shoulder. Don, who met him in the hall,
opened his eyes in surprise, and went into ecstacies over the handsome
little breech-loader which Clarence presented for his inspection.
“I didn’t know that you city fellows ever had an opportunity to use
such things as this,” said Don, bringing the weapon to his shoulder,
and glancing along the clean, brown barrel.
“O, yes, we do,” said Clarence. “Rifle-shooting is becoming quite
fashionable now-a-days, and I used to spend an hour or two every
evening at the gallery. I can make forty-five out of a possible fifty
almost any time.”
This was Greek to Don, who, however, did not ask any questions, for
Clarence had so pompous a way of giving information and looked so
surprised when any one asked him to explain his meaning, that Don did
not like to show his ignorance. He handed the rifle back to his cousin
and saw him walk out of the house, pass through the gate, and turn down
the road that led to Godfrey Evans’s cabin.
We have already told what sort of a reception he met at Godfrey’s
hands, and have also described what he did to bring himself to the
notice of that gentleman. He knew Godfrey as soon as he put his eyes
on him. He studied the man’s face closely, and being satisfied with
the opinion he formed, easily induced him to accompany him into the
woods. He wanted to talk freely with him without running any risk of
being overheard, but he hardly knew how to begin the conversation.
He wanted to make a friend of his new acquaintance and gain his
confidence, and in order to do that, he must be careful how he went to
work. The pipe Godfrey had lost the night before, and which Clarence
had brought with him in his game-bag, served him a good turn. In
attempting to produce the cigars, he accidentally pulled out the pipe
also. Godfrey recognised it, and so amazed was he to see his property,
which he imagined he had lost beyond recovery, in the possession
of an entire stranger, that he betrayed himself at once. After that
it was no trouble for Clarence to open conversation with him about
the buried treasure, and neither did he experience any difficulty in
persuading Godfrey to accept him as an assistant in the place of Dan.
Clarence learned to his great surprise and amusement that he had been
the innocent cause of Godfrey’s hasty stampede on the previous night,
and it was all he could do to refrain from laughing outright at the
man’s description of the “haunt” he had seen. We have also told what
arrangements the worthy pair made in regard to prosecuting the search
and dividing the spoils after the barrel was found, and we know that
when the interview was ended Clarence went home happy in the belief
that he would soon be a rich man, and that no one under his uncle’s
roof, not even his brother Marshall, would be the wiser for it. No one
was the wiser for it then, but there was one who found out all about it
a few hours later, and who interfered with his project in a manner so
unexpected and effectual, that he not only put a stop to all efforts
to find the money, but also came very near driving all the negroes off
the plantation, and causing General Gordon the greatest trouble and
inconvenience.